First Time For Everything

“Look,” she said as patiently as she could, “I know I’m not the kind of woman you typically associate with, but—”

“You haven’t known me long enough to determine the kind of women I associate with,” he said without looking at her.

Jax let out a quiet grunt. “Time enough to know all I need,” she muttered.

He lifted his gaze to hers. “That’s highly unlikely.”

Every muscle in her body tensed. There it was again. The same überconfident, master-of-all-he-surveyed look. And right then and there she realized that even attempting to keep the peace was no longer an option.

She folded her arms tight across her chest. “Shall I tell you what I think?”

Leaning back, he studied her carefully. “You appear committed to sharing your every thought,” he said, his voice now laced with amusement. “Why stop now?”

His tone pricked a nerve. Without a doubt, it was time she provided him and that God complex of his with a much-needed reality check. Anticipation soaring, Jax twisted in her seat to face him.

“You choose your clothes to impress.” She paused, remembering the restrained impatience as he’d shoved up his sleeves. “Not necessarily because you like them, but as a symbol of your success. To convince the masses you’re good at—” She crinkled her brow. “What exactly do you do?”

“I’m an assistant U.S. attorney.”

“Impressive.” She avoided the cool eyes watching her expectantly. “You wear your hair conservatively short, but leave it longer on top to avoid looking too militant.” Her fingers itched to dig into thick waves and muss them up, just to see what he’d do. “What are you? Thirty? Thirty-one?”

“Thirty-two.”

So nine years, numerous tax brackets and an alternate reality separated them.

She briefly inspected the deliciously bared forearms lined with muscle and sinew, irritated that his lethal sensuality was so utterly intoxicating. She avoided the tall, dark and disturbingly intense type, but this man had the heat rising in her body like hot oil in a lava lamp.

And the reemergence of a sense of humor made him vastly more appealing.

“I’d bet big money those muscles are courtesy of your home gym equipment and not from a love of sports.” From the look on his face, she knew she was right. “You keep in shape as part of your image. The self-discipline thing and all that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, her bracelets tinkling again.

“An art you obviously don’t subscribe to,” he said, his level gaze not budging.

“In relationships you prefer women like yourself.” Biting back a smile, she went on, ignoring his dig. “Rules number one and two state they must be sensible and practical.”

“Wrong.” He leaned closer, bringing the gray eyes into sharper focus, and the breath stalled in her throat as her head spun from his towering proximity. “Those are numbers two and three,” he murmured. “Law-abiding is rule number one.”

Pinned in place by his look, the need to move grew unbearable. She crossed her legs and wiggled her dangling foot in agitation.

At five feet six, she’d never be considered outrageously tall. But he was six foot three, at the very least. And despite the easy tone and his almost-teasing words, there was nothing soft about him. He was all dark edginess, like a tightly coiled spring.

He’s too much for you, Jax. Just keep your fat mouth shut.

But she knew she wouldn’t. According to her friends, she lived with her heart on her sleeve. According to every foster family she’d ever been placed with, she simply lived with her foot in her smart-ass mouth. Realistically Jax knew the truth dwelled somewhere in between.

But the need to provoke him was too great.

Her leg stilled, and she adopted a wide-eyed, innocent air. “I still haven’t addressed the most critical issue. The age-old question—boxers or briefs?”

“I wouldn’t classify that as an age-old question,” he said, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, the first show of frank amusement.

Blinking hard, Jax stared at him. She’d thought it had been a fluke, but her first impression had been spot-on. He was extra hot when humored.

Fascinated, she continued. “Sure it is. Ranks right up there with the chicken-versus-egg question.” She noticed a small scar that disappeared under a dark slash of eyebrow, daring to mar all that perfection. “And the argument over which is more influential, nature or nurture.”

Intense interest flared in his face. “I wasn’t aware men’s underwear was as hotly contested as genes versus environment in forming personality.”

“In certain circles it is,” she said.

A droll skepticism crossed his face. “None that I frequent.”

“That’s not saying much. And as far as DNA and environment are concerned…” Jax’s face softened with the faded memories of her grandmother belting out the latest countrywestern song. “I’ve always believed we’re a unique combination of the two.”

Pursing his lips, his voice turned thoughtful. “I’ve always hoped we could overcome them both.”

Intriguing response. Very intriguing.

Troubled by the notion, she studied his scar, wondering about its origin. “Is that why you wear a suit? To overcome your DNA?”

The twinkle in his eyes grew brighter. “A better question would be, is psychoanalysis via underwear a required course as a music therapist?”

Amused, Jax swept a stray hair from her cheek. “No. But every choice you make reveals a little of your character. Today proves I lead with my heart.” She studied his endless legs, encased in what had to be custom-fit trousers, giving a decisive nod before going on. “You’re definitely a briefs man. You like everything neatly—” she lifted her gaze to his for effect “—contained.”

A quick flash of a devilish grin morphed from outrageously handsome to downright devastating, and the euphoric high it produced only made her miss the smile more when it was gone. Disturbed by the thought, she sent him a pointed look, and her voice lost the teasing tone. “Including your emotions.”

His scar shifted in surprise at her blunt statement, and she was almost ashamed she felt so smug about bringing the man down a notch.

Apparently, he didn’t agree.

“I think I’ll let the insinuation my emotions are contained in my underwear pass without comment,” he finally said. His faint smile was concerning. “Especially since my deal with my sister includes further contact with you.”

Confused, and more than a little alarmed, Jax frowned. “How does your deal with Nikki include further contact between us?”

“She didn’t tell you the details?” His tone implied he wasn’t at all surprised his sister had been less than forthcoming. “In exchange for helping you, she promised me she’d finally let me hire someone to move in with us and help her with her daily activities until she’s out of her cast.”

“And how does that affect me?”

He settled back and shot her a master-of-all-he-surveyed smile. “Because the live-in caretaker is going to be you.”

CHAPTER TWO

BLAKE WATCHED JAX go completely still before the refusal burst from her lips.

“No.” Clearly stunned, Jax froze for a few more seconds filled with silence before she continued, “Wait, let me put that another way,” she said leaning closer, bringing the smell of lemon shampoo and damp earth. “Hell, no.”

Fighting back a smile, Blake said, “That was eloquent.”

“That was clearer.”

“Why the emphatic refusal? Nikki told me the cut in funding has forced the club to shut down several programs, including yours. So obviously you’re in need of a job.”

“No, I’m in need of a plan to get the programs up and running again.” A furrow appeared between her eyebrows. “And no offense, Suit,” she said smoothly, but Blake got the sense she did mean to offend, “but I’m not in bad enough straits to accept a job that requires me to live in your home.”

The words lingered in the air between them as Blake held her gaze. Awareness seeped into the limo and saturated every molecule of air, making each breath suddenly feel heavy. And then Jax turned to face forward, effectively putting an end to the moment.

Part of him echoed her reluctance. But so far Nikki had fired the three people he’d hired to help. And she’d refused the limo service he occasionally used. Blake had nearly burst a fuse when he’d discovered his sister had driven herself to the flash mob in a cast.

A long leg cast.

Which was as reckless as the careless stunt that had broken her leg in the first place. It was amazing she hadn’t gotten herself killed today. And if he didn’t get Nikki to accept help from somebody, she’d wind up dead in a car accident, just like his father.

For a flickering moment, the memories flooded him and his chest grew tight, making breathing difficult.

Blake rubbed his forehead, easing the tension as he concentrated on the view out the tinted window. Palm trees paraded past like guards along the median. Cars eased forward in sporadic burps as the city reached the peak of the Friday rush hour. His sister was going to drive him stark, raving mad. The past few years had been tough, the two of them clashing more and more. Now he suspected she was doing things solely with the intent to tick him off.

And how could he concentrate on the biggest case of his career if he was living on pins and needles, dreading her next stunt? He needed someone to help Nikki, and the only one she’d agreed on was the hellion on heels.

He glanced at said hellion. Unfortunately, his fleeting impression at the courthouse had been dead-on. Jax Lee was trouble of monumental proportions. Impulsive. Headstrong. With a mouth to match.

Worse…everything about her made him hot.

Honey-colored hair, wild and unrestrained, hung in waves down her back, while the small tattoo on the inside of her right wrist enhanced her unruly air. And, as if that weren’t disturbing enough, her long legs were bare beneath the cutoffs. Her black cowboy boots were decorated with a line of red thread that twined around the ankles and climbed higher, as if wanting to hold more of her close; he knew the feeling.

Curbing his reaction had been doable until he’d discovered the sound body had indeed come with a sound mind, the sharp wit and keen intellect triggering a need the likes of which he could no longer ignore. Unfortunately, intellect did not equal common sense. Or sanity. Her amusing mouth was sassier than all his past girlfriends’ combined, but her reckless nature made her a risk.

A risk he had no choice but to take.

Pushing the doubts aside, Blake settled back and focused on the oddly enticing sight of her lightly jiggling foot. Obviously, the lady was incapable of holding still.

Or keeping her opinions to herself.

“What will it take to change your mind?” he said. “Money?”

She rolled her eyes, as if to say his attempt was lame.

“Whatever your weekly salary is, I’ll triple it,” he said.

“No thanks,” she said smoothly. “I’m sure you can find someone else.”

“Nikki refuses a hired aid. And the only other family I have is my mother, but she was the one who encouraged Nikki to drive herself to the courthouse today.” At Jax’s curious look, he felt obligated to attempt to explain Abigail Bennington, an impossible feat. “My mother doesn’t believe in setting limits.”

A fact that had been okay when his father had still been alive. After his death, Blake had been the one left to pick up the slack, striving to see that a then twelve-year-old headstrong Nikki made it to adulthood in one piece. No easy task.

He tipped his head. “As a matter of fact, you and my mother would get along great. She believes everyone should lead with their heart, too.”

The smile she sent was laced with a touch of reproach. “Smart lady.”

“Yes. But my mother also believes in love potions, tarot cards and the validity of the psychic hotline,” Blake said drily. “So take that for what it’s worth.”

Her smile grew bigger. “Your mother sounds wonderful.”

Abigail Bennington was frustrating. Exasperating. And notoriously unreliable. As much as he cared about her, dealing with his mom wasn’t always easy. Luckily, she was also very lovable in her own wacky way.

Wacky, just like the beautiful woman with the tiny tattoo. Her wrist rested on her lap, and he discreetly tried to make out the picture. But he only managed to get an eyeful of a bare, tanned and very toned thigh.

A few more moments passed filled with awareness, and he forced his eyes back to her face. “Look,” he said reasonably, “Nikki needs company, and I’m currently involved in a case that’s requiring a lot of my time. And my mother has a social calendar that would put the First Lady to shame.” He blew out a breath. “Most of Nikki’s old high school pals have moved away. And the few that still live here have jobs. Honestly,” Blake went on thoughtfully, “I think she’s missing her friends.”

Jax’s foot stopped its incessant wiggling, and she crossed her arms, a small frown stealing across her face as she nibbled on her lower lip. Obviously she was rethinking her refusal, more moved by compassion than money. Information he fully intended to take advantage of.

“Nikki had been looking forward to her summer break for months,” he said, pressing on. He’d had years of practice reading juries, and Jax’s sympathy was easy to see. He almost had her. “Now she’s stuck at home. What she needs is someone closer to her age for company.” Truthfully, he thought his sister needed a keeper, but he kept that tidbit to himself. “So she won’t feel so…alone.”

Jax heaved out a sigh, turning to face him. “Okay, I’ll do it.” Blake’s blood surged in triumph. “But I have one condition,” she said.

“Which is?”

“I want you to handle my legal problem.”

The triumphant feeling collapsed. “I’m a federal prosecutor, not a defense attorney.”

“I can’t afford to hire a lawyer, even with the tripled salary.”

Blake frowned. “So you’ll be assigned a public defender. Most of them are excellent. And more than capable of handling your case.”

“Sorry, Suit,” she said, her gaze suddenly serious. “I entered the foster system when I was ten years old, which means I’ve dealt with a lot of social workers through the years. I learned to spot a bad one a mile away.” The tidbit about her past was disturbing. But there was no self-pity in her eyes, just a level of acceptance that was impressive, and Blake fought the surge of sympathy. “Suffice it to say,” she went on, “I’ve had enough experience with government employees to be a little leery of the devoted public servant. Yes, I might get lucky and be assigned an excellent attorney.” She shot him a look that dared him to disagree. “But I also know how bad it will be if I’m appointed one that isn’t.”

Her hazel eyes exhibited a wariness and knowledge beyond her years, a hard-earned wisdom bubbling just beneath surface. Too bad she didn’t apply that wisdom on a regular basis. Blake shifted in his seat, wishing he could offer her words of assurance. But he had more than enough experience to know that a poorly executed defense could have lifelong consequences.

And clearly Jacqueline Lee knew it, too.

“Consider it an exchange of favors,” she said with a stubborn lift of her chin. And he supposed somewhere in that zany world she inhabited the logic made sense. “If you want me to help you with Nikki, those are my terms.”

With his current schedule, their arrangement would mean burning the midnight oil. But he wouldn’t be getting any work done if he was worried that Nikki would hobble to her car and drive across town again, just to obtain a second cast tattoo.

Blake wearily rubbed a hand down his face and then shot Jax a hard look. “You’ll have to follow my directions to the letter.”

“I can do that.”

“Which means no arguing over my every instruction.”

Her attempt to feign ignorance was comical. “I’m very capable of holding my tongue.”

All evidence to date suggested otherwise.

He paused for effect and then raised a doubtful eyebrow. “I guess we’ll find out,” he murmured.

Her gaze didn’t budge, and the challenge in her voice was another gut-clenching jolt to his libido. “I guess we will.”

The next morning Jax left Nikki relaxing by her brother’s sparkling pool, tablet computer in hand, and made her way up the bougainvillea-lined walk leading to the main house. Since Jax’s quarters were located in a separate guest cottage beyond the pool, avoiding the owner so far had been easy. The rest of the day would likely be a different story.

For the bazillionth time since she’d said yes, Jax questioned her decision to accept the temporary job. In the end, it hadn’t been because she needed the money desperately, which was true, or that the flexibility of the work would afford her time to pursue funding for the club, which was also accurate. Ultimately, the mention of Nikki’s loneliness had won her over.

Jax had spent years living in homes surrounded by people, yet feeling all alone.

But for the first time, alone was sounding almost attractive. Putting up with Blake’s disturbing presence in the limo had been bad enough, but now she was staying on his property. As his employee. And the thought of being reduced to a subordinate to the strictly by-the-book man was less than thrilling. Eight years spent at the mercy of the foster-care system had instilled in her an inherent dislike of being under an authoritative thumb. Either way, as frustrating as he was, she knew he was an excellent lawyer. Brilliant was the word Nikki had used. Which would have made the exchange of favors perfect…except for that damn coolly amused attitude of his yesterday.

An attitude that had only gotten worse.

Because last night, when the limo had arrived in front of the courthouse to drop her off, her car had been missing. After a brief moment of panic on her part, Blake had phoned the police station with her license plate…and learned her VW Beetle had been towed and impounded for a parking violation.

Which meant that the day that had started out good before turning bad had officially landed on the ugly.

She’d wound up having to endure Blake’s patient yet imposing form in her apartment while she packed for his house—the light in his eyes clearly communicating he was even more amused since she’d added a parking violation to her list of crimes. It was stupid, she knew, to care that the man thought she was a complete flake.

Unfortunately, now she needed to remind him of that very fact by asking him for a ride to the impound lot to retrieve her car.

Jax bit back the groan as dread and an annoying sliver of anticipation wormed its way into her limbs, and she rubbed a damp palm down her jeans as she passed through the French doors and into the foyer. She paused, wondering where to look for Blake, feeling underdressed in her well-worn jeans.

His modern, U-shaped house was framed in wood and stone and gorgeously situated in an exclusive island neighborhood in South Miami Beach. Jax headed into the huge living room, where dark Brazilian wood floors added warmth. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows afforded an unobstructed view of the Biscayne Bay to the north, and to the south, the pool nestled between the U.

All in all, a soothing scene…until she spied Blake at the far end of the room.

Jax’s heart picked up speed even as her stride grew slower as she considered leaving before being detected. After yesterday’s trail of humiliating moments, she longed to rejoin Nikki at the pool and forget about her car. Unfortunately, the sound of her squeaking tennis shoes announced her arrival, and Blake turned before she could decide whether to pay now or pay later.

Her heart shifted from First to Third as he approached, long legs crossing the vast room with a purpose.

Clean-shaven and impeccably dressed, Blake looked almost as formal as the day before. The tux had been replaced with charcoal-colored pants and a white dress shirt, and his thick, ink-black hair was damp at the edges, probably from a shower.

Didn’t he know it was Saturday? And why couldn’t she convince her libido that he was so not her type that she couldn’t even begin to count the ways? The oodles of dollars in his bank account didn’t come close to making her list of concerns, but she was dying to know where his fortune came from.

“Please don’t tell me you’re accepting bribes from the Mafia,” she said.

His pace slowed as he approached, puzzlement briefly hijacking his cool demeanor. “I’m sorry?”

Not near as sorry as she was when he stopped in front of her and she was hit with his now familiar cologne. Tamping down the wave of heat, she shifted her gaze from his broad shoulders, emphasized by the cut of his shirt, to his striking face.

Her body might never get used to the masculine beauty.

“No matter how far up the chain he is, there is no way a government attorney could afford a house like this,” she said with a wry hike of her brow. “Unless, of course, he’s on the take.”

His cool expression morphed to one of interest, and the gray eyes crinkled at the edges in humor. “I promise, I’m not accepting bribes. And trust me,” he said, his voice achieving the perfect droll note, “no one enters a life of public law for the salary. I’m fortunate enough that the paycheck isn’t a concern.” He held her gaze a moment before turning his attention to the view, his face briefly growing hard. “I inherited my money.”

Inherited. Which meant someone—family—had to die for him to acquire all this wealth. And judging by the look on his face it was a subject she should stay far, far away from. Because something in his expression told her if she pursued that line of questioning, he’d cut her off at the knees.

A perplexing and exasperating tenderness welled inside her. The man who had the world at his feet had a vulnerable spot, too. And, minus the inheritance part, one she could relate to, no less.

Toes tapping nervously, she struggled to lighten the mood again before she asked for a ride, ignoring her clamoring nerves. “Well, I guess I have to change my first impression of you as the James Bond type.” He quirked his eyebrow skeptically, and she went on. “Must have been the tux.”

His forehead bunched in amusement. “Must have been.”

“But the ultrarich guy fighting for justice is more Batman than James Bond,” she said, struggling to mirror his coolly amused demeanor.

A quick flash of a sexy half grin graced his face, and Jax’s breath caught, her world tipping sideways.

“Except Batman was a vigilante operating outside of the law.” Clearly playing along, he crossed his arms, his dress shirt stretching across broad shoulders. “And for the record, I prefer the tux to tights.”

The planted image did nothing to right her still-spinning world as she pictured his muscular legs encased in formfitting fabric. And the thought of a man in tights should not be turning her on.

“Interesting visual,” she murmured, her tone holding an embarrassingly husky quality.

Their eyes locked.

Time stretched.

And Jax struggled to shore up her body’s defenses against the attraction she’d just let slip. She could tell by the wary look in Blake’s eyes.

Big mistake, Jax. Big mistake.

Right now climbing into a car and riding across town with the man hardly seemed like a good idea. But without her vehicle, she was stuck in his house with no means of escape, even for a brief reprieve.

She swallowed hard and bit the proverbial bullet. “I was hoping you could give me a ride to the impound parking lot.”

He pressed his lips together, either biting back a smile or suppressing a groan of irritation. Jax wasn’t sure which would be worse.

“I’m free this afternoon,” he said, and she sighed, relieved that the car ride would be delayed. “I have some work to finish this morning. But first we need to discuss the terms of our employment agreement,” he added.